


Not the Raven, tap, tap, tapping

by jesseofthenorth



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-18
Updated: 2011-08-18
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:55:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jesseofthenorth/pseuds/jesseofthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is trapped. He needs to get out and find Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Raven, tap, tap, tapping

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 20 minutes for thenewpub  
> Prompt was: tapping out Morse code on a prison cell wall  
> 

Dean can feel the cold starting to sink in too his bones deep. He's too tired and and hungry and beat up to give a shit. The only thing he cares about is the sound he's not hearing. The tapping in the pipes that run through the wall of his cell. His only lifeline to Sam locked away somewhere in a cell of his own.

It's been hours he thinks since his brother tapped out a message to him and now all Dean can think is he's going to light that fucking ghost up extra crispy if anything has happened to his brother. Burn that bitch real good.

It's only an idle threat if he doesn’t make it out of here. He keeps digging at the crack in the cement where the bars touch the floor and tries not to read to much into the silence.

He lets himself fall into the task, chipping away at the crumbling concrete trying not to think about it being to late or how much it sucks that a screw up like him might be his brothers only hope. He just keeps picking at the concrete brushing away every piece he pries loose.

The sun goes down and the dark cell gets even darker and Dean knows the spirit will start to stir soon. He starts making more noise hoping to draw attention to himself and away from where ever Sam might be. Hoping it will come after him.

He can still feel the bruises across his shoulders from where it slammed him into the back wall of the cell before the door banged shut.

He wonders idly how long it has been. Almost 24 hours if its dark again.

His hands start to hurt and there is blood at his fingertips from pulling at the rotted floor with just his bare hands but Dean can't stop. Instead he curses low and angry and keeps going.

He's not thinking about the irony of being pissed at an angry spirit. “Stupid fucking pissed off ghosts”

“Dean?” a quiet and surprised voice says and he whips his head toward the sound.

“Sam! Dude are you okay?”

His brother rushes up to the cell “Yeah man! You?” Sam asks already working at the rusty battered lock.

“How'd you get out?” Dean asks still trying to wrap his head around Sam and safe and too damn close.

Sam looks at him though the bars and if Dean wasn't so damn glad to see him he'd want to smack the little (enormous) fucker

"Well" Sam says smuggly "I always was better at locks than you" just as the catch lets go.


End file.
